Secrets of a Selfconfessed Sanctimonious Slimeball
by C.Rara
Summary: Prof Dumbledore has issued the teachers a diary, in which they must pour their deepest and darkest of secrets. Why? because he's a git. But with the CoS opened&that blithering idiot Lockhart prancing about the place,why can't snape stop writing about HER?
1. Dear Diary

Really, with the chamber of secrets opened, students being petrified around him (and this, for once, is actually meant in the literal sense-not just describing the pupils completely irrational fear of him) and there is some obviously gender-confused nancy ponce prancing about the place with his stupid cinammon rolls and disgustingly pink robes, why is it that every thought it Severus Snapes head always ends up being about that utterly insane and absurdly infuriating pathetic excuse for a professor, Aurige Sinistra- whom everybody seems to be labouring under the (incredibly wrong) impression is his one true love- and more importantly WHY did Albus feel the need to issue all the teaching staff with a diary? Don't they have enough madness thrust upon them in each and every lesson. Does Albus get some sick twisted pleasure out of tormenting them? Git.

Although i'm not quite sure why I began writing this, I think it is safe to say I would never have been able to begin something like this if it hadn't been for the truly inspirational stories by the modern-day Shakespearettes of harry potter fanfdom-She's A Star and Twisted Biscuit (Lamenations of a starry eyed twit and Just a Random Tuesday, respectively.)

**SECRETS OF A SELF-CONFESSED SANCTIMONIOUS SLIMEBALL**

**(PREVIOUSLY ENITLED: I SO DON'T LOVE HER!)**

**Friday, September 1st, **

**9:15 pm**

Dear Diary,

Oh God. It looks even worse on paper than it did in my head.  
I can't do this. I mean, _a diary_?

When I applied for the position of potions professor many years ago, it did not say in any bit of my contract, not even in the tiniest font (which I read of course, many a dodgy deal has been strung due to some blithering idiot who eagerly signs his initials where he's told and ends up on a pineapple and goat trading ferry, in the middle of the pacific ocean, with a mad old witch who has more hair on her chin than on her head leering down at you whilst gutting a fish… shudder but never mind, that's all in the past, I learnt my lesson thank-you very much- where was I? Ah, yes, I remember) I didn't say in one bit of it that I would have to write in a DIARY.

If it had then I would never have accepted the job. Well that's a lie, I would have had to have done, because of Voldemort's orders, but that's a story for another time. Not that there will be another time. Don't think I'll be writing to you again, because I won't. In fact, I'm going to march right up to that loony, muggle-loving, delusional, senile, crazy old coot Dumbledore and demand that he puts an end to this absurd plan before it begins.

…

I WILL!

…

DON'T GIVE ME THAT LOOK. I'M GOING. RIGHT NOW! YOU'LL SEE, AND THEN I'LL BURN YOU. BURN YOU AND WATCH YOU DIE, DIARY, DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

…

…

…

Dear sweet Merlin. Is this what a diary does to you? No wonder teenage girls are so emotional, just 5 minutes with this monstrosity and I've already driven myself insane.

Another argument I can put forward to Dumbledore; this diary is demonstrably very bad for my health. I almost pity Auriga I know for a fact she has one of these…things-I've stolen and read it countless times-no wonder she's barking mad. If just short encounters with the likes of you can leave you yelling and screaming at an inanimate object, imagine what extended periods of time would do to you. Your sanity levels would be worse than a patient at St. Mungos.

No wonder the poor dear is terminally loopy. I bet Dumbledore's got one too; it would explain so much and-

…

Ok, lets get one thing straight; I did NOT just refer to Auriga Sinistra as dear. She is not a _dear_, and neither should her name come into any sort of connection with the word 'poor.' Unless of course we are discussing her lack of money. It is then, of course, entirely acceptable.

This diary is truly making me lose my marbles, and the more I write in it the more phrases I have to come up with to express my concerns, sanity-wise. I don't want to start getting too repetitive, like Auriga's diary.

ARGH, why do I keep talking about her? That's it, from this point on, I will call her nothing but Professor Sinistra, and the only way her name will come up is if it is under the context 'god, isn't astronomy the most boring thing ever, well it would have to be, look who teaches it. A brain-dead monkey could teach better than _Professor Sinistra_' and that is the only way I am allowed to speak of her.

Now, I'm leaving to go find the _deeply_ revered and _immensely _admired headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, whom in his hands holds the metaphorical key to the wizarding worlds future, in the form of educating the young people of the magical world and teaching them how to become civilised and cultured adults, like himself.

Dear Lord. We're doomed.

**9:54 pm**

**… Sigh**

I don't know what I did to deserve this, I really don't. I mean, sure I've killed the odd person, and you know, I've handed out a detention when they're really wasn't need for one, and there was that time I made that first year cry. And that third year. Oh, and that seventh year Slytherin lad. But really, its hardly my fault these immature little brats are so sensitive!

Anyway, I don't deserve this, regardless of what all of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and the odd Slytherin think. It's not fair…

**9:56pm**

So, basically Dumbledore refused point blank to stop this pathetic sham of a good idea. He also kindly reminded me that I had been all for the idea of handing out school diaries. Well yes, I had thought it fantastic; forcing the children to write out their most secretive and innermost thought in a book that can easily be confiscated and then read out in front of class to embarrass some person (coughHarryPottercough) to the point where they are past wanting the ground to swallow them up and are actually considering jumping off the astronomy tower. It sounds better that Christmas, doesn't it? But I had no idea that WE, the teaching staff, would be used as guinea pigs in this little experiment!

Oh, but it gets worse. Dumbledore requested to 'just have a quick glance' through my diary to 'see what I was referring to when I said I was losing my marbles' because he 'didn't understand.'

**9:58pm**

He said he particularly enjoyed my description of him.

**9:59pm**

And that he would love to hear more on my 'eventful escapade in the pacific' on his, brace yourself for this, diary, BROTHER'S boat…it wasn't a mad old lady hitting on me. It was shudder his shudder brother, Aberforth's ferry…I shall never be able to walk into the Hogshead again. Ugh. shudder shudder twitch shudder

**10:03pm**

Ok, I think I've shaken it off, although my eye does keep twitching a little. It's probably best not to think about it, eh?

**10:04pm**

Oh, I'd almost forgotten. He'd also jokingly said that he would make sure to pass on how concerned I was about Professor Sinistra's state of mind, and how highly I thought of her teaching skills.

**10:05pm**

But he was joking. Obviously. I mean, he wouldn't actually tell her, would he?

**10:06pm**

Oh Merlin, he would, wouldn't he?

**10:09pm**

I HATE HIM!

**_-x-x—x-x-x-x--x-x-x-x--x-x-x-_**

**Ok, first chapter up! I quite like it so far actually. I've no idea what motivated me to write this, I just opened up a blank sheet on Microsoft word and here it came. I'm reasonably pleased with it, but it may need editing. And remember, reviews keep me happy!**


	2. Sarcasm

_Hi. I'm fourteen years old. I haven't even done my GCSE's. I doubt I was even born when the first book was being written. I nearly fainted an hour ago due to lack of oxygen after getting trapped in a duvet cover my Mum sent me in, to look for a pillowcase she lost... But yeah, I'm JK Rowling. I wrote Harry Potter, because I am THAT great. Yep. _

**Chapter 2: Sarcasm is not just a big word; it is a way of life. **

**Thursday 6****th**** September**

**Staff Room- sitting by myself in one of the armchairs in the corner of the room**

**8:45 am**

Well, hello diary, I guess.

My amazing, mind-boggling, overwhelmingly superlative plan was...ultimately flawed. You see, it had come to me in a moment of inspiration last night (whilst I was purposefully NOT thinking about a certain Astronomy professor) that rather than trying to murder you, little aggravating pain-in-the-ass notebook that you are, I should instead just...never write to you. In you. To you. I don't know.

Unfortunately, that brilliant (maddeningly, all-seeing, all-knowing brilliant) headmaster of ours had apparently already predicted such a thing like this to occur, and told us this morning that we must all be writing in our diaries every week at a minimum. So, my devious and sneaky plot that would have put Salazar Slytherin to shame was foiled.

I noticed Albus's eyes kept flickering between myself and Minerva, who also let out an exasperated sigh at the end of Dumbledore's comment. Interesting. It appears that we do have at least one other sensible member of staff amongst this sorry congregation of insane idiots unfit to care for flobberworms let alone students. Yes, I was looking at Sybill Trelawney whilst writing that.

So speaking of less-than-sane individuals, I wonder what Aur-Sinistra is doing?

**8:47am**

**In the "kitchen" area (which is in fact a broken table, old cracked counter and a kettle.) **

I am leaning next to the kitchen counter under the pretence of making myself more coffee whilst trying to eavesdrop on Aurig-_SINISTRA_ and Vivian Vector's conversation.

It would appear they are talking about...um...oh my.  
_Sex deprivation... _

I don't want to hear any more.

**8:48am**

**Back in armchair**

They do have a point though; I mean all the teaching staff here basically live in the castle. I know a few, Professor Flitwick for example, have spouses who live in Hogsmeade, but the rest of them... Most of them have been working here for about 10+ years too, I mean, I am one of the newest ones (apart from the buffoon Lockhart) and I have been teaching here for...must be nearly 10 years if not over. Christ.

**8:50am**

**Still haven't left armchair**

...There is really nothing to do here. What is everybody else doing?

Well, Auri-Sinistra (_why_ do I find it so impossible to call her by her last name) and Vector (see, no problem this time) are still carrying on their intellectual and entirely appropriate conversation over on the sofa next to the fire.

Professor Sprout is getting trounced in a game of wizarding chess against Flitwick.

Oh. Minerva is 'chatting' with Lockhart. I can't tell what their saying, but he is rambling on and on about something, oblivious to the glare coming at him from Minerva, which any halfwit could interpret as 'run now or I will stab you with a spork and take great pleasure in watching you die.' If I didn't loathe him almost as much as Potter I would take pity on him. He clearly has no idea how badly he is infuriating Minerva, and trust me, Minerva McGonagall is _not_ someone you wish to tick off unless you are sure suicide is your only option. I noticed her hand keeps twitching in the general direction of her wand.  
Oh, she just turned slightly and looked at me. I didn't need legilimency to tell what she was thinking, believe me. It was written all over her face, clear as crystal.  
_"Please rescue me. If I have to listen to much more of his inane drivel, I'll be forced for the sake of my sanity to use Avada Kedavra on him, and the idea of being locked up in Azkaban for life is not an appealing one, Severus, who is a far greater head of house than I could ever wish to be and though younger in years, is my role model and whom I look up to and respect, even more so than Dumbledore."_

...

Ok, so maybe it wasn't those exact words. But she still desperately wanted someone to come save her from the_ horror_ that is Gilderoy Lockhart, and I would go save her, but then who would sit in my chair and laugh at her? I have a reputation to uphold, you know. I can't go around, being the nice guy, I'd lose my _identity_.

So, back to the staff room...

Um...

Ah. Trelawney is predicting Albus's future. I never knew one man could die in so many gruesome and painful ways. Oh, and she is walking away, in the direction of...ME!  
Oh, God. Oh dear Merlin. HELP. She's walking towards me. She's walking towards me.  
**Abort!  
RUNAWAY!  
****ESCAPE!**

Huh. I think Minerva's been tortured enough, don't you? I could safely go and rescue her without worrying about my bad, evil name being dragged through the...clean, un-muddy mud. Right?  
Yes, I think so.

**ARGH! She's getting closer...**

_**FLEE!! FLEE!!**_

**9:10am-Potions Classroom-waiting for the little first-year brats, I mean STUDENTS, to arrive. **

Had a relatively pleasant talk with Minerva. By talk I mean, openly discussing (in loud, carrying voices, very close to where Albus was quietly sipping his tea) what an appalling idea this whole diary-scheme was and how degrading it was that we, professional and respected teachers of merit should be _obligated _to write in a diary, as part of a project designed for kids. It is insulting, it really is.

Well, it was all going rather well. I would go as far as to say Minerva and I were bonding-it was a beautiful moment of house-unity, a two-teacher solidarity of the most unlikely people, against an even greater power (Dumbledore.)

Of course, it had to be ruined. Gilderoy decided it time to quit beaming at his reflection in the back of an old spoon, and pipe up _his _opinion of the matter. Not that his views are even remotely worth listening to, ever. Especially in this matter, when it doesn't affect him, Dumbledore didn't see it fitting to force a new member of staff to write in one of these monstrosities. Have I mentioned that I hate him, recently?  
"A Diary, Severus?" he smiled. I do actually mean smiled, he didn't talk; he somehow managed to project his voice through his wide, toothy smile. I could see Minerva actually have to restrain herself from slapping him. I myself had to resist the temptation of cursing him into the next millennium.  
"I knew Minnie here..."  
It is fascinating to watch just how thin a person's lips can go. _Minnie. _ I will have to store that away for further blackmail purposes.  
"...was writing in a journal. But you, as well, Sev-erus" I think he was planning on nicknaming me Sev. Thank-goodness he decided against it, I'm not sure how Albus would react if I killed one of his employees. I doubt he would be best pleased. Although I imagine I could get Minerva on board. The rest of the teachers too, in all likeliness. Perhaps not Auriga, she still seems obsessed with him... I've said it before and I shall say it again, she is truly bizarre.  
"But really Severus" Lockhart continued, laying a hand on my shoulder. I think I may actually have physically growled. "Don't you think it is a little _feminine?" _

I stared at him, my eyes lingering on his trimmed, highlighted and blow-dried hair, _unnaturally_-blonde hair, unnaturally as in _dyed_ blonde hair. His _lilac_ robes and his _manicured_ nails.  
There are many words that could describe the look I gave him. Sardonic. Contemptuous. Disdainful. Evil. Murderous. Dangerous. Deadly. I have heard some students refer to it as "The Snape" - I wasn't sure whether I should be flattered or insulted, but they were Gryffindors so I gave them a detention regardless.

Showing some of his famed intelligence he allegedly possesses, that I am still rather cynical of and hesitant to believe exists, Dumbledore called _Gilderoy_ over to discuss his small problem of Doxy's in his bed-chambers curtains. _("Oh yes professor, I know exactly how to deal with those, just douse them with some cold water, that'll send them running sir, blarg blar blah blarg")  
_I exhaled, placing my wand (which I cannot remember ever getting out) back in my pocket. I turned to go, before _Minnie_ grabbed me by the arm and said;  
"Do you think he knows Doxy's become highly aggravated and brutal bordering on bloodthirsty when mixed with water?"  
"Well, it is basic Care Of Magical Creatures and of course, common knowledge that any fool with half a brain would know before graduating Hogwarts" I replied "So I highly doubt it."

**11:19 am-Morning Break**

**Staff Room-alone-sitting in armchair-with a steaming mug of black coffee in hand-contemplating life.**

Or more specifically, exactly what I must've done in a previous one to deserve this current one.

I have come up with nothing. Ok, there is nothing that I could ever possibly have done that would justify the _torture_ I have to put up with on a daily basis at this place. Give me Azkaban and/or Voldemort any day.

**11:20am**

I'm serious.

**11:20 ½ am**

Maybe I invented (low-fat, low-cal looks like butter, tastes like shi...something else) margarine. That then may possibly be a validate excuse. But if I invented margarine then it would taste better, because I would never produce something that tastes so...objectionable. Really. Vile stuff it is.

**11:22am**

So, I've come up with two conclusions; one, margarine is foul and revolting, and I most certainly did not create it, therefore...two, I did nothing to deserve this life, wrought with chaos, disasters, misfortunes and morons.

...

I'm trying to decide who are the biggest culprits of moronic behaviour at this school. It is a four-way tie between first years, Gryffindors, Trelawney or Lockhart. I really can't decide.

But as my current suicidal mood is due to first-years, I'll have to go with them.

**11:24am**

I swear they get dumber every year, and I had just had the great fortune of teaching them. For two hours. Double Potions. Gryffindors and Hufflepuff. Not a single bright spark among them. I think I may actually kill someone.

These particular mini-geniuses spent the whole lesson worshipping Potter. Yes, that's right. Forget the guy in the Daily Prophet today who saved an entire family of wizards after a magical fire broke out in their kitchen, effectively trapping six of them in a burning building. Or that nine-year-old witch in Belgium who had concocted a cure for baldness for her Father's birthday present. No, who cares about trivial things like that, when _Harry Potter_ flew to school in a car a week ago. Breaking dozens of school rules. Damaging school property. Disgracing Arthur Weasley. Endangering their lives. Almost revealing a world of magic to muggles, which would result in a mass panic and confusion for both sides and could quite possibly take us back to the witch-burnings of the middle ages. Plus, of course, let us not forget, it showed the huge levels of stupidity that only Gryffindors and Lockhart possess.

He is truly an idol...a god. I should build him a shrine. Stupid bloody Gryfindor.

**11:25am**

I spelt Gryffindor wrong, but the point still stands.

**11:30am**

But it doesn't matter. I have the next three hours free. I only have one lesson left today, last thing.

**11:31am**

Of course, it is second-year Gryffindors and Slytherins. Which means Potter. Ugh. Weasley. Ugh. Granger. Ugh. Draco. Quiet Ugh-in case Lucius Malfoy can somehow hear me speaking ill of his son. Not that I would speak ill of a Slytherin. Thinking and writing that he is a spoilt brat, however, shouldn't land me into too much trouble. Unless this diary came into the hands of a student. Or worse, Auriga.

Ok...if ANYBODY is reading my diary, you'd better learn to sleep with one eye open! I will find you. And hurt you. I was a DEATH EATER. I can and will kill you, and I really wouldn't bat an eyelid. Got that?

**11:33am**

Ahem. Anyway.  
I shouldn't get too excited about my free periods. I suppose I'll have to take this time to mark the first year's essays.

Great.

**11:43am**

Why do I set so much homework at the beginning of each and every year? I know, it is always fun to make the whiny little brats suffer as soon as they return from their holidays...but **I **always have to mark them.

Why do I never remember that little fact? Why?

**12:13pm**

I was correct in my previous assessment. First years really are morons.

**12:27pm**

Huh. According to Steven Roubtly, not only are Monkswood and Wolfsbane completely different things, but Monkswood can apparently save you from the side-effects of Triberry Elixir. Fascinating. Not only because Triberry Elixir is Newt Level potions work and therefore something they should not have even heard of yet (fairly dark magic), but also that both Monkswood and Wolfsbane (being the same thing) are not intended to be drunken, as if they are consumed they tend to cause discomfort, stomach-cramps and around 99 percent of the time, death.

I am using deductive reasoning here, this is purely guesswork...well it would be if I wasn't so completely sure...that Mr. Roubtly here asked Lockhart for a little help on his essay. I am rather inclined to mark this essay with a T, purely based on Mr. Roubtly stupidity and inability to judge a character. However, according to the rules, any student who gets a T must speak with the Professor and re-do the essay with his/her help. Who wants that kind of work? It truly is the only thing that has kept me from failing Potter all these years.

**12:35pm**

I've had enough of this. I'm going for lunch. I would say good-bye but one; that would mean talking to you as if you were a person, just like I am now, by referring to a notebook as 'you' and secondly; i'm taking you with me, for moral support as it were. I am sitting between Minerva and Auriga, with Albus on Minerva's left and Vivian Vector on Auriga's right. I have actually been more comfortable with the arrangements when I was standing between Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange. Crazy as hell, the both of them. I pity Bella's husband. I think her sisters both had the right idea, running away from her. Although why Narcissa chose Goldilocks I'll never know. I mean look at the little demon she spawned.

**12:42pm **

**Main Hall – Eating dinner**

...Oh, this is rather uncomfortable. I don't know whether Dumbledore has told Auriga about my comment or not. If he has, then I am rather fortunate to still have all my appendages in the correct place. Currently, I am attempting to eat a rather large plate of steak and kidney pie, but I am finding it very difficult to concentrate on food when there is a mad woman sitting beside me who may or may not have (in her eyes) an adequate reason to murder me.

**12:43pm**

On the plus side, Minerva has had an even worse day than mine. From what I can gather, Lockhart has elected her to be his 'best friend' here at Hogwarts. In Gilderoy Lockhart's mind, however, a friend is someone who follows you around, brushing your hair, giggling like a pathetic little fan-girl at every smile and worshiping the ground you walk on as if you were some eminent, distinguished, _divine being_ which us mere mortals should bow down before. I really despise him.

**12:45pm**

Auriga just commented on how I keep writing to you. The word 'obsessive' came up. Pot, kettle, black. This is the first time in nearly 10 years I've seen her without her diary, and she says I am obsessive. Oh what a surprise, she just did it again.

**12:46pm**

Apparently it is rude to be writing in my diary at the table.

**12:47pm**

I told her that if I wasn't writing in my diary, I would be forced to make conversation with her...and why would I want that?

**12:49pm**

She told me to "shut up and stop being a bastard." I assured her that I had no intention of carrying on the conversation any further. And then she called me a bastard again.

**12:53pm**

You know, I don't think I have ever had a conversation with her where she hasn't called me a bastard at least once. She should really work on her vocabulary. I'm fairly certain Dumbledore would not be at all pleased if suddenly all the dear students of Hogwarts starting running around swearing at each other, because of the Astronomy teacher's coarse language whilst in the presence of impressionable first-years. What would it say about the school?

'Oh yes, historic school. Famous. Always does great in exams. Of course, there is the slight problem that all the students can only converse in vulgar, uncouth words, after a slightly peculiar-in-the-head teacher converted the entire (respectable, well-brought up) student-body into a group of mindless prattling yobs.'

**12:53 ½ pm**

_I AM __NOT__ PECULIAR IN THE HEAD YOU SNAKEY BASTA-AARGH. YOU...YOU...OH, TO HELL WITH IT, YOU UTTERLY REPULSIVE, HORRIBLE, EVIL, LITTERING IN THE PARK AND STAMPING ON CUTE LITTLE KITTENS, NO GOOD, STINKING, ROTTEN __**BASTARD!!**_

**12:55pm**

Apparently Auriga has no sense of propriety either, if she thinks it is acceptable to steal people's diaries. That said, she has at least attempted to expand her vocabulary. True, she still called me the B-word, but at least she managed to fit a few different adjectives in there. If I wasn't so affronted that she thinks I have both time and incentive as to go to such jovial, fun, outdoorsy places filled with lots of happy families and running children shudder such as _parks_, I'd be proud of her.

**1:15pm**

**Staff room – finishing marking those God damn awful first year essays. **

I'd only been sitting here a few minutes when Auriga came in. She must have left dinner about a minute after I had.

I wonder if she's stalking me.

**1:17pm**

Apparently she is not stalking me. She left her lesson plans here this morning and came to retrieve them. I happened to mention how careless of her it was to leave them here, I was just trying to be _helpful_. She threw a mug at me.

I can really see why Dumbledore hired her. Less than a week into term and she is already swearing, forgetting things and throwing mugs at people.

**1:19pm**

She didn't seem to like it much when I commented on how a _reputable_ and _refined_ professor, such as myself, would never resort to something as infantile as throwing mugs at people. She said she agreed completely and threw a plate at me instead. I told her 'I hate to think what you do to the students who forget to hand in their essays.'

She looked at me and said astringently 'you, Severus, of all people, _you?_ That's rather rich.'  
I'm sure I don't know what she means.

Hang on a second. Why would she need lesson plans now, who in their right mind would be teaching Astronomy at 1:30?

**1:23pm**

Apparently it was her Newt level students doing their theory lesson before the practical. Sounds thoroughly riveting , doesn't it?

I'm not quite sure why she threw another plate at me this time, though. I didn't insult her. I didn't even say anything when she tripped over the chair.

**1:24pm**

'_Besides'_ she just said '_I thought the monkey might be tired.'_

What on earth does she mean. Where does a monkey come into it? I...

Ah.

**1:25pm**

"Ah" she is screaming, right now, looking very murderous. I really wish there were some other members of staff here. I feel that some witnesses could be useful. Curse you, delectable Trifle Day, who trap teachers and students alike with your deliciousness, rooting them to their chairs, Curse you! –Oooh, I fancy some trifle now, i wonder if they will serve some for dinner too. I hope so.

"YOU BADMOUTH ME AND MY TEACHING ABILITIES TO THE **HEADMASTER** AND ALL YOU CAN GIVE ME IS '_AH_'?"

Um... I need to reply. Part of me really wants to make a snarky, sarcastic comment back, but I have a feeling that it might just exacerbate things to the point of no return (for me.)

"I'm sorry."

**1:29pm**

I'm worried. She hasn't spoken in about 4 minutes. That can't be usual. She's just staring at me like I've grown horns.

...I haven't have I?

No. She must just be in shock or something.

Oh wait, we have a blink. Yes, and she is closing her mouth. I think she is regaining consciousness.  
"um...ok...well...uh, thanks...I guess...you're, uh, forgiven...yeah...well...um"  
What a refreshingly concise statement, it really got to the point didn't it. Short and snappy.

**1:31pm**

Ouch. That fourth bowl she flung at me actually hit me. I'm going to have a huge bruise in the middle of my forehead. Stupid Hagrid and his stupid huge bowl. Stupid me, too. Why did I feel the need to voice my thoughts.

**1:32pm**

"Just when I think you've proven me wrong, you go back to being a horrible, greasy, evil old git again don't you.?"

Hey, hey, hey. Wait a minute. When did I become old? Dumbledore is old. Flitwick is old. That lump of mould in the staffroom cupboard (according to the grapevine-well, the portraits-it used to be a lump of cheese) is old. I am less than two years older than her!

Ah well, I guess I've ruined it. She hates me again, may as well carry on down this frequently trodden path.

"As much fun as it is pretending to care about all your pathetic attempts at insulting me, I feel it my _obligation_ to inform you that you are already two minutes late for your _intriguing _lesson on the alignment of stars and planets or whatever it is the hell you're going to lecture about. But don't worry, I highly doubt any of your students will have noticed as it is a whole two minutes in so they have probably all fallen asleep by now, like they would in any normal Astronomy lesson. Teacher present or not." I said silkily. All of my insults or threats come out silkily. I think it makes me sound dangerous. Auriga says it makes me sound like a bastard. I'm not even sure how that works.

**1:33pm**

Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Her aim is really improving.

" You are just ghastly, Snape. Ghastly. No wonder all the students hate you. I bet anyone who has ever met you hates you. I'd start writing your will, if I were you, you repulsive little slimeball."

Ah well, at least she didn't call me a bastard.

"Bastard" she whispered maliciously as she walked past.

Oh well.

**1:40pm**

These essays are really boring to mark. I've done the top half of the register. The rest get P's and A's depending on which house they're in.

**1:41pm**

Don't give me that look, diary. The next time I mark their work I'll make sure to do all of the bottom half. God. Who are you to judge me. You're nothing but a book of paper with lines on. You have no right to go around criticising people, that's my job. Not yours. You think you're better than the rest of the other notebooks do you? Eh?

...

I must be the only person in the world who owns a _pious _notebook.

**2:23pm**

**Still in the staff room**

There is really nothing to do here. I must've made myself about 9 cups of coffee. Pomona came in and we had a little chat, exchanged pleasantries, I suppose. Honestly, I think she is scared of me a little.

Lockhart came in. I'm not ashamed to say I hid behind the chair until he decided to leave, to go and find somebody to talk about himself to.

**2:24pm**

Okay. I'm a little ashamed to say that.

**2:27pm**

Seriously. What should I do? I guess...I could always write my will. Not that I think that Auriga will actually follow through with a threat, but because there is really nothing to do. Okay.

**2:29pm**

In the event of my death, I want all my worldly possessions to go to my dear friend...um...

Ok, I leave it all to my friendly acquaintance...um...

To my next door neighbour...oh wait no, I hate him.

THERE'S GOT TO BE SOMEBODY.

You know what, screw it. I'll be buried with all my possessions, like the Egyptians and the pyramids and stuff. Only I don't want to be mummified, that sounds disgusting.

...

This is really depressing. I knew I wasn't the most popular of people, but I thought there surely must be _somebody,_ but there isn't. There really isn't.

**2:34pm**

**Potions classroom**

I bumped into Professor Vector in my way down here. I asked her if she had any thoughts on why I have nobody I'm close to. She seemed to consider it for a while before answering thoughtfully "Well, I suppose it is because you are always a horrible, sarcastic git with greasy hair."

She may be onto something.

"Sir, are you okay" Mini-Malfoy just asked me.  
"Yes, yes, I'm fine Mr. Malfoy, thank-you for asking, 5 points to Slytherin for showing concern."

Ignoring the looks of disgust on the Gryffindors faces I set about writing on the blackboard. Wow, they really do hate me, though, don't they. Huh. Jealous of my sharp wit I suppose.

I guess it just goes to show. Sarcastic is not just a big word; it is a way of life.


	3. When the world is against you part 1

**21/12/08  
Apologies for the extremely long time taken to update this story, it is actually hard to believe it has taken so long. But I guess I've been busy at school, coursework, GCSE and stuff.  
Get this right, formerly B grade student is now getting straight A's and A*'s.  
So I'm afraid I feel like I am neglecting Severus, and Minerva and Ginny in my other stories. But I promise I will try and update all of them soon. I've broken up for the holidays now, although I'm getting a puppy tomorrow, she'll need lots of attention...and it's Christmas (YAY!) **

**15/02/09  
Er...ok...it is now February and I still haven't finished the 4****th**** page. I am sooooooooooo sorry. I began reading Twilight, and then I felt compelled to read New Moon, Eclipse, Breaking Dawn (twice)...and...I hate to say it but I've fallen in love. Don't get me wrong, I haven't read them nearly as much as the Harry Potter books but...I've only had them for a few months it is just making me distracted, but I PROMISE. I shall now focus all my attention on Severus. **

**2/03/09  
I'm run out of excuses. I am just appalled with myself. But I shall try and make this chapter to its very highest possible quality (given the shamefully bad author writing it) and update as soon as I can. You can't possibly judge me any harsher than I judge myself. **

**11/05/09  
this is getting ridiculous.**

_When the world is against you (you might as well just give up.)_

**Wednesday 12****th**** September**

**Private Bedroom quarters**

**6:30 am**

I hate Wednesdays. I know it would seem like an odd day to hate, but I detest it with a passion. I understand why people strongly dislike Mondays, because it signals the beginning of one long, monotonous week of utter twaddle and insanity. However, consider the day Wednesday objectively for a second. It is neither the beginning of a week, or the end. There is nothing special about this day. Nothing remarkable to look forwards to. I suppose if you were a glass-half-full kind of person, you might also argue that there is nothing to particularly dread on such a day. Fortunately, I am no such person.

Now, having judged this day as dispassionately as possible (this is incredibly dispassionately for me, as I tend to care little about a lot, and care a lot about little) please stand in my shoes, just for a moment. I have a pattern on a Wednesday (every Wednesday, for the last 10 god-forsaken, Gryffindor-hating, Dumbledore-avoiding, Sinistra-goading years.) It isn't exactly a fun pattern. My day will start promptly at 5am with Peeves appearing beside my pillow, blowing raspberries in my ear. Shooting sparks out of my wand and growling threateningly will eventually succeed in scaring him away, unless he is especially bored, but if he has spent most of the night torturing wandering first years and Filch, then a simple glare will suffice in scaring him off. Last night luckily fell into the latter category (I only assume because it is still early days and the first years are still wary of Peeves) but it doesn't end here. Within a few minutes of that wretched poltergeist disappearing and me returning to my regrettably insubstantial slumber, The Bloody Barren emerges through my closed door, to apologize profusely for being unable to prevent Peeves from bothering me. It is never discussed, but it is in my unfathomable knowledge that he will be trying desperately to woo 'Fair Lady Helena' of Ravenclaw, though why I do not know. It is linked with his death, I believe. I completely comprehend why she rejects his advances each time; he is a mass of blood and chains for the love of Christ! I wonder how he died. It sounds painful, and I'm sure I could entertain a few fancies of Potter being in the same situation as he was, it would please me immensely, I'm sure.

**7:15am**

Ahem. Sorry, I was away in a dream world for a while there. Potter was dead.

**7:17am**

Dumbledore wasn't making me write in a diary.

**7:19am**

I was king of Sarcasmia.

**7:20am**

Sinistra was my silent Queen of Sarcasmia. (She was mute...I couldn't stand her nattering and criticising the way my crown clashed with my gold shoes.)

**7:21am**

It was nice.

**7:22am**

Her being mute, I mean. Not her being my Queen.  
Why in the name of Salazar was she my Queen anyway? Why was I dreaming of her? Why was Lucius Malfoy dressed up as a house elf, whilst Dobby ordered him about and hurled insults at him? Who the hell is that knocking on the door?

These are the questions that haunt me!

**7:23am**

It's honestly not worth answering the door.

**7:24am**

Good Lord! Take the hint! I'm not seeing you. Whoever you are!

**7:25am**

They still haven't gone. Give me a second, diary, I'll go see who the suicidal imbecile that is disturbing me before I've even had my morning coffee is, possibly kill them, and I'll be back within seconds, giving me just enough time to bid you farewell before being taken straight to the dampest, dingiest, foulest cell in Azkaban.

**Staff room**

**8:03am**

*sigh* It was Daphne Greengrass. I couldn't very well kill one of own student, now could I? Besides not only am I rather fond of her, she is a very bright girl...a very Slytherin girl (far more so than, say, Parkinson who is, I am quite certain, a descendant of the great moronic pug-man of Hertfordshire, year 1235) but she actually had a reason for troubling. I do loathe it when they have legitimate excuses. It makes me seem like the bad guy when I force them to scrub toilets or clean out cauldrons. Contrary to popular belief, I don't actually enjoy being the guy everyone hates, I just quietly tolerate it. The way a man might tolerate gillywater if it were to be followed with firewhisky. (Being hated is the gillywater in this scenario, with firewhisky being my ability to dish out detention whenever I so choose.)  
Anyway, Greengrass's reason.  
It would appear Nott got into a disagreement with Crabbe and Goyle, both of whom Daphne claims 'attempted and failed to launch a physical assault on Theo' but _I _rather think it must've been more of case of Crabbe and Goyle 'attempted to grunt menacingly_ and_ raise their fists at the same time...ultimately ending in a predicted-by-all _failure_.')  
Cutting a long story short; before the second punch landed, they were both flat out on the floor, unconscious.

I am supposed to be down there right now sorting it all out.

**8:05am**

As you can quite clearly see, I'm not. Hogwarts is a learning experience and Crabbe and Goyle have got to learn that swinging out at little brats is funny for all (apart from the aforementioned beaten-up brats-but they have no sense of humour! Neither do the rest of the staff, apart from Argus and I. We find it hilarious, I once actually saw him crack a smile) but attacking a fellow Slytherin, especially one who is much, MUCH cleverer than them, and let's face the facts - even the bloody first years qualify for that, is never going to work out well for them.

**8:45am**

I was teaching them a lesson. Honestly, i'm not just being lazy and uncaring towards them, I really value their well being and-

**8:50am**

Sorry for my sudden departure, but the utter twit Lockhart put two sugars and about half a gallon of milk in my coffee. The sugarless, black coffee I asked for.

Stupid moronic dunderhead.

**9:15am**

Gah. I got cornered by Madame Pomfrey on my way to the first lesson (third year Ravenclaws and Slytherins....a good class.) Apparently Crabbe is suffering some mild disorientation and she will be letting him back into classes tomorrow, but will be keeping an eye on him for the rest of the week. The tone in which she told me this suggested both boredom at the topic, and a slightly self-sacrificial tone when she said he'd be staying there with her an extra day. Perhaps she ought not to have taken on the position of matron if she cannot treat each individual fairly.

**9:16am**

Perhaps I should not have taken on my position if I cannot treat every student fairly. I will work on that.

Oh wait, I don't care.

Never mind.

Unfortunately, her wittering on and my inability to tell her to shut up and go away (she's having to spend a whole day with Crabbe. I possess a basic level of compassion) meant that I was late for my first class. The only class of today I actually like.

**10:15am**

That was terrible.

Three burns. Two dissolved cauldrons. Some girl nearly swallowed a bat ear.

I don't think it is possible to have a worse lesson.

**11:16m**

I guess I was mistaken. A lesson with the Weasley twins is actually something reminiscent of hell. Huh. I guess I'm meeting my fate early.

**11:19am**

I'm working every single lesson today, you know. It is awful. And right now, in MY spare time, I have to go find Daphne and Theodore and find out just what in blazes happened.

(I haven't had a change of heart, Dumbledore just skipped into my office and requested that I seek out the students involved in the 'ruckus' last night and investigate. There is no need to report back to him. Just note it down in my diary which he will be looking through on Friday evening.)

**11:19 ½ am**

I knew the old sod was inquisitive, but this is an invasion of privacy. Sometimes i really detest that man.

That's right, Albus, I'm talking to you!

**11:20am**

Also, why were you skipping Albus? Should you be reading this, which I'm sure you are, I feel obliged to say that no self-respecting man skips. No skipping is allowed. Ever.

**My stupid classroom. With the stupid desk and the stupid chair.  
11:31am**

Well, that took up practically my entire break time, and will likely to carry on through most of my lunchtime. It seems that rather than just let me hear one or two sides of the story, every student in Slytherin and a few in other houses wished to put their two knuts in.

**11:33am**

Would you like a brief summary of what happened, diary? I've got nothing else to do...I'm just educating young minds which will hopefully lead our country into greater greatness.

All of the opinions varied, but the events and the order in which they proceeded is something that the entire of Slytherin agreed on.

Sitting in the sofa and chairs tucked away in the corner of the room sat Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Millicent Bulstrode and Pansy Parkinson. (It is easy to tell the hierarchy of the House simply by watching where people sit. Malfoy obviously has the better chair, nearest to the fire, with everyone else seated around him. However, Daphne and Theodore sit together on another sofa that they have moved slightly, allowing them to still sit near to people like Malfoy or Blaise Zabini when he is there, but they can also chat and mingle with other students. They attempt to separate themselves from certain stupider, more prejudiced members of the group i.e. Parkinson. I'm sure you can read as much into that as I can.)

**11:33 ½ am**

Well maybe not quite as much as I. You are, after all, a notebook.

...

And I am aware of that fact.

**11:34am**

Oh! I should be teaching!  
THAT'S why they're glaring at me with so much more hatred than usual. Well, the Gryffindors always glare at me. But the Hufflepuffs are too terrified.

**11:40am**

A simple love potion. Nothing too strong because I don't like 20 newt level students prancing about with a love potion. But they have studied it for a few lessons, and they recently did an essay on it. I am sure everything will go smoothly.

...

Right. If working at Hogwarts has taught me anything (this is unlikely. Based on teachers like Auriga I sincerely doubt even the students have gained any proper knowledge.) it is that nothing ever goes without a hitch. If it appears to be going well, you can guarantee that someone (cough Auriga cough) will have overlooked something.

**11:43am**

Crawley has just dropped brass scales. On his foot. He is currently hopping around swearing horrendously and getting very red in the face whilst his fellow students sit around him laughing. It is rather amusing. Especially since he bumped into his table and knocked boiling water all over his hand. I should really send him down to Madame Pomfrey. But she is so busy, it would be truly unfair to burden her with another student.  
Detention, I think Mr Crawley, for swearing.

...

"Sir. Me 'ands and me foo' cane like 'ell. Oh my days, you gotta send me down to the hos-wing or summit, innit sir."

...

...

...

...

_WHAT???_

...

...

_WHAT DID HE SAY?_

_..._

_..._

_..._

"Mr Crawley, I am sure you are attempting to converse in a human tongue, but you are not successful in your endeavours. I suggest you invest in a dictionary and study the English language. Perhaps expand your vocabulary to words more profound and intelligent than expletives. If you were unable to follow me so far, I can perhaps bring in an ape to all future lessons with you. Maybe you can have a proper chin-wag with him. Your IQ must be within decimal-digits of each other. Not that I am implying for a moment that your IQ is actually any higher than a figure. The ape however might be. You see, i'm sure the ape would not be so think as to swear loudly in the presence of a teacher. Detention for a week, I think. Don't you agree Mr. Crawley?"

"You havin' a bubble, sir? Wot. Can't do that, y'know. I'm proper hurt, blood. I'll get me dad, yeah, he's proper scary, no, yeah, he'll teach you."

...

...

...

He's trying to speak to me. I know it.

...

....

What. Do. You. Want. From. Me. Strangely. Talking. 'Human'?

**11:45am**

Mr Crawley just stormed out of the classroom, muttering _something. _God be damned if I know what. I'm sure I heard him utter sounds that could be a crude interpretation of 'my father' but it was all too garbled to truly hear. Honestly, though, threatening me with his Dad? Me? Good lord, the idiot. He's worse than Malfoy, which reminds me, Malfoy was semi-central to the story I've been trying to tell you for the past hour or so.

A brief relation of the fight:

Nott and Greengrass were chatting about which subjects they were considering for their third year. Apparently Greengrass is toying with the idea of Arithmancy. As competent a teacher as Vivian Vector admittedly is (far better than her friend Auriga anyway) I don't think anything mathematical is going to work out well for Daphne. Nott apparently agreed with me, and was working out ways to phrase it delicately, when Parkinson and Bulstrode marched in and plonked themselves down on the surrounding sofas, with Pansy sitting practically on Blaise's lap.  
Zabini, disgusted, shook her off and walked off muttering something about an essay. Rather than feel even the tiniest bit humiliated that she had been so obviously and offensively rebuked in front of her classmates, Pansy quickly sat up and perched herself on the arm of Draco's chair.

Draco: "You know there are plenty of seats in the common room, Pansy"  
Pansy: (cooing) " I know...but I want to be close to you, Drakey"

It was at that point that Malfoy cringed and Daphne was suddenly overcome with a troublesome cough that although may seem to have been covering a laugh, was actually just an unfortunate coincidence. I think in the end Draco actually pushed Pansy off until she sat with Bulstrode, Crabbe and Goyle.  
I hadn't realised that all three of them attempted to sit on the same sofa. It explains why it is always sagging. It also elucidates exactly what my students mean when they refer to "l'ignoble canapé de trois" or "the abhorrent couch of three." I guess it isn't a club after all; I shall have to remember to tell Auriga. She and I spent a good while guessing exactly what it could be when Professors Vector and surprisingly enough McGonagall childishly locked us in one of the caretaker's storage cupboards. That was a very long, uncomfortable four hours. Why do I keep getting reminded of that? In fact, she keeps making unwanted and unanticipated appearances in my thoughts. I think the potion fumes are getting to me.

The love potion fumes.

That means absolutely nothing. NOTHING.

Now...my STORY.

Daphne happened to make some off-hand remark about lessons to Draco. Pansy immediately jumped into the conversation and brought up the fact that for any _respectable_ pure-blood aristocratic lady, school matters hardly mattered because a woman's intelligence isn't measured in grades but in the amount of beautiful robes she wears and eligible bachelors than encircle her. Naturally Daphne was quick to make a rather obvious comment, as well as a few other quips that perhaps one might not expect. Pansy for some reason took offence to being referred to as a 'backside-of–a-cow-faced ignoramus who would no sooner have any boy-blind, deformed or otherwise attracted to her than have one sensible thought fly through her inconceivably empty brain' and threw her butterbeer over Daphne. This would have escalated into an all-mighty to-the-death cat-fight, which would have only ended up with Daphne receiving a permanently black mark next to her name, forever associated with the Slytherin-Common-Room-Massacres, if Draco had not greatly offended Pansy at that moment by muttering _'Damn'_ whilst staring at Daphne's beverage-drenched chest. As opposed to getting incensed at his friends blatant testosterone-fuelled comment directed at his girlfriend, Theo simply nodded wisely and said "yeah...I know."

This could all have ended happily, if Crabbe and Goyle hadn't also decided to join in with admiring Miss Greengrass's...ah...assets. They did so with less taste than Mr. Malfoy (shocking to believe, I know) and at their remarks, Nott decided to act. Mostly my giving them the finger whilst scorching their tongues with fire-flames-to teach them not to say such 'horrid things whilst ladies are present.' As you would expect the two idiotic idiots lashed out as they always did. And...Well...I've already told you how it ends.

**Staff room**

**12:35pm**

Oh sweet merciful baby Jesus. I know I haven't prayed to you in a while, but this has reaffirmed my belief in you. I promise, the very next chance I get, I'll go to church.

Oh that's a lie. And I know it. What's more you know it. And I know you know I know you know it.

But I will put a few galleons into a charity collection box the very next time I see one, I swear,

Well, maybe not galleons, but definitely one.

Well, one sickle.

A few Knuts.

Ok, I'll put in an IOU 1 knut. It's not much, but i'm on a teacher's salary. My liquor doesn't buy itself!

But, please don't feel that my lack of generosity in regards to my wallet in any way demonstrate lack of gratitude towards this miracle.

What miracle?

School is closed for the rest of today. Apparently some kind of demonic creature, a vampire or something, from the forest entered the school premises. We've got ministry officials and Aurors in here and everything. It's a riot. I love it.

Admittedly imagining all the paperwork I'll have to fill in is dampening my spirits slightly. But not even that can take away from this glorious day.

It's a good time to be alive.

**(its awful, the last bit i mean. I know it isn't up to par, but this chapter has been going on for such a ridiculously long time, i had to post something! So I will spread this one long chapter over 2, just so i have something to post. I am really sorry for the delay, although i suppose anybody who read this originally has given up on me now. I am really really apologetic. )**


End file.
